


it's still the same old story

by isawet



Series: play it again [2]
Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: F/F, Friendship, Gen, Pre-ship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-06
Updated: 2017-01-06
Packaged: 2018-09-15 09:13:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9228335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isawet/pseuds/isawet
Summary: Lena and Kara and stumbling towards something real.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JPuzzle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JPuzzle/gifts).



> kudos to my iamthegaysmurf for helping me out with plot and characterization and for betaing! <3

Lena has a workshop no one knows about. 

It’s small, and fitted off from her main office. Sliding door hidden behind a bookcase, triggered by a button under her desk. When it shuts behind her, she always thinks she should feel claustrophobic, surrounded on all sides with thick lead-lined bulletproof, soundproof, hermetically sealed walls. Instead she exhales, slow, and always, always, always, feels tension slide from her spine.

Her tools, _hers_ , lined up on the walls and little things she’s tinkering with and blueprints and scans and everything just so above her worktable. No one has even been inside, except for her, although her new personal assistant has seen the entrance, barging in and drawn up short and blinking.

“Very supervillain,” she’s told.

“Well,” Lena says, rising from her chair and smoothing down her skirt. “I am a Luthor.”

//

“Kara Danvers to see you.” Her assistant's voice is far from warm, and Lena allows herself a smile, alone in her office. She neatens a stack of papers on her desk and crosses one leg over the other, adjusting the hem of her trousers until it drapes over her ankle just right. 

“Send her in please, Mercy.”

Kara bounces in, and Lena assesses her quickly--it is refreshing, to know someone who is so easily read. This is not a visit where Kara is drawn up and hesitant, and Lena relaxes. “Your assistant is new,” Kara says, pointing over her shoulder in the general direction of reception. “And… scary.”

“She is new, yes.” Lena hesitates, then stands. She steers Kara to the couch. “Is this a purely social visit?”

“Yes. Well--no.” Kara looks sheepish. “You’re planning an Expo? A showcase of new L-Corp products?”

“Ah.” Lena softens her face deliberately, going for teasing rather than cutting. She allows her arm to stretch out over the back of the sofa. “A work visit.”

“Well--” Kara leans back, still all drawn up into herself. “You know Snapper.”

“I don’t.” Lena stands, abrupt enough Kara blinks at her. “Well, not personally. But I know the type.” She walks to the crystal glass bar in the corner of the room and pours a scotch, neat. “Men. Some things never change.”

She tilts an empty glass in Kara’s direction. “No,” Kara says, tiny awkward smile. “It doesn’t affect--uh, no thank you.”

“Mm.” Lena sits down again, leaving a carefully calculated distance between them. “And what kind of quote would make Snapper’s face light up like Christmas?”

Kara produces a tiny notebook then pauses. “I, uh--I forgot my pencil.”

“Not a pen?”

Kara searches her bag. “I prefer pencil. It’s--journalists shouldn’t ever refuse to be wrong. People should never write in stone.”

Lena stands and goes to her desk, sliding a drawer open and shuffling through her things idly. She knows what she’s looking for. “You don’t believe people can stand on the strength of their convictions? That there is a line that must be drawn?”

“I think if we had just a little more flexibility in the world, there would be less hatred.” 

Lena pauses, her hand on a slim small box. “Perhaps.” She draws it out and returns to the couch, offering it to Kara on her palm. “Please, allow me.”

Kara opens the box and her eyes widen. “I can’t--this is--” She runs her fingers along the fountain pen, gleaming and perfectly weighted.

Lena closes the box and sets it aside. “Think of it as a loan. Someone with your coloring should accessorize in gold, I think, but silver will always do in a pinch.” Kara looks like she might argue, and Lena redirects her, neatly. “And how can I help an intrepid reporter today?”

Kara touches the nib to paper. “I was hoping for a hint on the big reveal.”

Lena smiles. “That would be telling. I can say that a piece of cutting edge technology is on track and fully expected to be able to demo as the… big finale.”

“That’s cryptic.” Kara makes a few notes, her pen scratching. “Nothing more for an intrepid reporter?”

“How about a ticket?”

Kara’s eyes go wide. “But… you’ve been sold out for months. Not even _The Daily Planet_ was able to get a ticket, only international outlets--”

“Kara. I’m the L in ‘L-Corp’. I always have a ticket for a friend.” Kara looks almost comically torn, and Lena touches her on the shoulder, very light. “I think it would do wonders for your career.”

“Alright.” Kara tucks a strand of hair behind her year. “Thank you, Lena.”

“I’m assuming the flying bus doesn’t need validation.”

Kara laughs--her real one, not the nervous giggling stutter that betrays all the awkwardness that sits inside her chest. Her nails glint with pretty polish and there’s a pencil stuck through her messy ponytail. “You would be correct.”

Lena watches her leave. She stands and looks out her window, her hand resting on the back of the sofa where Kara had sat. It’s still warm, quick fading body heat, and she sips her drink and watches the clouds roll away.

//

There’s an alien attack. At least, that’s what the news is reporting. Lena watches the coverage in her office and thinks it makes for very good television. Supergirl wins the day and it’s late and she’s locked the door, leaving her workshop open. It’s a little against the original purpose of the space--commissioned as a panic room--but she enjoys the view and the television, just visible. She likes being able to take a break and walk to the large windows, have a drink. 

Mercy appears, as she does, as though a cloud of smoke and the lingering smell of sulfur should wrap around her like a cloak, startling Lena half to death. Lena attempts to hide her surprise; poorly, if Mercy’s faintly quirked lips are any indication. “Don’t think I don’t know where you used to work.”

Mercy produces a takeout container from thin air and lays it neatly on Lena’s desk. “I have never attempted to hide it.” She leaves as cat-footed as she’d entered, somehow locking the door behind her although Lena has never given her a key. 

Lena changes into a jumpsuit and eats sashimi with her fingers in front of the heavily tinted windows, a sight that would make her mother blanch. She hears the flutter of Supergirl’s cape and the gentle thump of her boots and sighs at her own reflection, dim and blurry in the chrome of her modern furniture. There’s grease under her jaw, and a frizzy wisp of hair curling free from her ponytail. 

The doorknob rattles twice, then goes still. Knuckles rap at the glass door, polite, and Lena can’t hide her smile. She’s hardly flipped the lock before Supergirl strides by her in cloud of cold, fresh night air and the crackle of ozone. “Chatter is,” she says, all drawn up and indignant and righteous and looking very much like her cousin with the breeze ruffling her perfectly coiffed hair, “you have a cutting edge piece of tech about to debut. A very anti-alien piece of tech, which I _thought_ we’d come to an understanding--” She looks at Lena properly for the first time and draws up short, perhaps a bit closer than she had intended. She blinks. Lena wonders where Supergirl buys her lipgloss. “You--”

Lena goes to the bar. “Drink?”

“Um,” Supergirl says, clearly off-footed, and Lena smiles again. “You’re--I didn’t know you owned work clothes. _Work_ work clothes, not--obviously you have clothes you go to work in.”

“Is this the part where you make fun of my soft white collar palms?” Lena rattles the ice against the glass, dull heavy clinks. “Can you even form calluses?”

“Not really.”

“I don’t suppose you can get drunk, either?”

“Not on that.” Supergirl raises an eyebrow at the open door to Lena’s workshop. “A room like that might make some people nervous, don’t you think?”

“Saving the day doesn’t earn an eccentric millionaire a panic room?” Lena closes the door. “Do all lead-lined rooms make you nervous, or just ones owned by Luthors?” Supergirl frowns and crosses her arms over her chest. It’s defensive, and Lena is her mother’s daughter. “Is it just you and your cousin, with your fortresses and your ships, that deserve privacy?”

“You’re right.” The concession surprises Lena silent--it’s always both vaguely irritating and freshly exhilarating to interact with Supergirl, who is always at once both predictable and surprising. Supergirl walks to the windows and raises a hand to the glass. “A waste of a view, though, don’t you think?”

Lena touches a button on the wall and the tint shimmers away. Supergirl smiles--for all she is alien, unquestionably, it surprises Lena every time, the way she looks like a young girl wondering at the vastness of the universe. “It is a very good view,” Lena admits.

“I wish you could see things the way I do.”

“So I would join in your utopian vision of peace on earth… and beyond?”

Supergirl sighs. Her hair waves in the cloud of sunshine she carries with her and radiates off her skin, all those red rays that power her up and make her almost indestructible. Almost, except for that pretty green rock that makes Lena feel like her brother for buying in small, legally protected quantities. “No, Ms. Luthor. Because I can see beyond the city shine--the light pollution. I love this city, but it does glow out the stars.”

Lena makes her way to stand at Supergirl’s shoulder. “Ms. Luthor? I’d thought we’d moved beyond it.”

Supergirl smiles. Her head ducks, very faintly. “I didn’t want to presume.”

“Presume away. Do you need another favor?”

Supergirl rolls a shoulder, broad and rippling under the blue fabric. Lena’s fingers itch; the price she’d pay to get that under a microscope and pick it apart down to the fiber. “Do you?”

“Not at the moment. I’ll have to find out what it is, though.” Supergirl’s brow wrinkles. Lena winks. “What gets you drunk. If we’re to have more social visits.”

Supergirl looks as flustered as Lena’s ever seen her. “I--how very forward of you. Lena.”

“It would be forward if I said there were stars reflected in your eyes. Offering you a drink is merely an overture of friendship… I don’t believe I’ve caught your name.”

Supergirl’s eyes flicker upwards, but a smile tugs at the corners of her mouth. “It’s Supergirl. And I should be going.” Her boots hardly click when she crosses to the balcony door--Lena wonders, briefly, if she hovers just a bit, when she strides.

//

Lena is working late one night at her desk when the floor shakes and the glass rattles. She startles, then freezes for a long moment before rising, hesitant, and seeking out the impact. There’s a new dip in her balcony, more of an indent than a crater proper. Supergirl lies inside it, blinking at the stars and looking faintly dazed, hair ruffled across her face. 

“Hello,” Lena says after a pause, for lack of something else to add. 

“Hi,” Supergirl says. She makes a low pained noise. 

“Can I--”

“Ms. Luthor!” Lena feels arms around her waist and she’s suddenly airborne, carried across her office and tucked under her desk before she fully understands what’s happening. She scrambles back out, smoothing her skirt automatically, and Mercy is--

“Good god,” Lena snaps, striding forward, “is that a samurai sword? Put that away.”

Mercy shouts at her to stay back, then says something in a quick streak of Japanese. Her sword glows at the hilt and along the blade, and Lena’s brain flickers before recognizing the design from an archived blueprint--it sidetracks her enough that she almost misses Mercy’s roar as she lunges, echoed by Supergirl’s voice calling her name. Something slams into the side of her body and the world tilts sideways. She sees the floor hurtling towards her far too fast to get her hands up to shield her head.

//

When Lena was five, her father threw her into the deep end of the pool. He sat her down first, in her blue and white pinstripe one-piece suit, and helped her rub sunscreen all over her fair skin and talked at great length about her brother and Alexander the Great and building empires. 

“Your name,” he told her, “ _Lena_. Your mother wanted to name you Helen, but I thought it was a bit--” he tapped the tip of her nose and she crinkled it at him, giggly, “--on the nose. Some say _Lena_ means ‘woman of Magdalene’.” He picked her up and set her on her feet. “I have great respect for Lady Magdalene. Jesus built something great, something that _lasts_ , but who made sure it did? Women behind the scenes, always.”

He kissed her cheek. “Your brother will be the name, but you’re the torch. Flames burn bright or burn out, Lena, which will you?”

Then he threw her into the pool.

//

Lena’s eyes hurt. They feel gummed shut, and her thoughts barely have time to form before the throb of her pounding headache knocks them away. She manages to slit her eyes open and groans, faintly. 

“Ms. Luthor.” Mercy sounds almost relieved. Lena groans again. She gets her eyes all the way focused and blinks at the ceiling.

“Where?” she croaks.

“The DEO. We have a private room prepped at the safehouse outside the city--”

“Lena.” Lena turns her head, biting back another noise of pain, and sees Supergirl in the doorway. The room has concrete walls and floor and military fluorescent lighting. The machines beep gently to her left, and Mercy is at her right, soot-streaked and one arm bandaged. “How are you feeling?” Supergirl steps closer and Mercy almost hisses, rising up with barely a grimace. 

“What hit me?”

“An Aellon.” Supergirl sees her confusion and hooks her fingers up to her mouth. She hisses. Lena stares.

“Snakewoman,” Mercy tells her. “She was… yellow. And strong.” Her hand hovers over Lena’s shoulder, wavering, then drops. “The DEO insisted you be brought here for observation.”

“Take me to L-Corp,” Lena orders, still struggling to sit up. “I want to be--” she’s achy and confused and the lights are too bright and Supergirl’s uniform is still dusty with the rubble of what Lena assumes is her office, “--not here.”

“Of course.” Mercy glowers at the soldier standing near the doorway. “We’re leaving. Now.”

“Lena,” Supergirl protests, “please, let me--”

“My head hurts,” Lena says. Mercy helps her sit all the way up and bundles her in a military jacket. “I want to go home.”

“Just a moment,” Mercy murmurs, kneeling to tug boots onto her feet. Lena wiggles her toes--even that sends tiny bursts of agony up her shins and legs. “Alright.”

“Lena,” Supergirl protests.

“Sorry,” Mercy murmurs, tugging a hood gently over Lena’s head. “They insist.”

//

“Kara Danvers to see you.”

Lena touches the intercom on her landline. “Thank you, Mercy.”

Kara seems noticeably less perky than usual, coming in almost hesitant. “I’m glad to see you’ve recuperated.”

“Snapper will have to wake up a lot earlier to find pictures of an out of sorts Luthor.” Lena tilts her gaze at the ceiling, thoughtful, “Well, a few incidents in college notwithstanding.”

“I’ve seen.” Lena raises an eyebrow and Kara ducks her head. “I’m a reporter, we research.”

“Do you? I thought that went out of fashion.”

Kara walks towards the newly restored balcony. “You can hardly tell there was any damage.”

Lena rises from her chair while Kara’s back is turned to hide the stiffness and her grimace. “Money talks. Any word from your super friend?”

“She sends her apologies.”

Lena eases onto her couch. “Some flowers would be nice. She put a crater in my office. My stock dipped dramatically when news I was taken to a DEO facility got out.”

“Snapper did enjoy that.” Kara looks surprised by her own retort, but smiles when Lena huffs out a soft laugh. “Supergirl did say something else.”

Lena sighs. “I’m sure no one could stop her crashing the Expo if she truly wants to see--”

“No, not that.” Kara peers out the window, then turns. “She’d like to visit you, if you’re willing. To apologize, and explain.”

“And you’re her personal secretary?”

“Just a friend.”

Lena taps her fingers on the back of the couch. “A Luthor and a Super. If my brother could see me…” she trails off, then snaps back. “Yes, of course. I’m sure she’d prefer a late hour--she does have a day job, yes?”

Kara looks faintly frozen, then shrugs. She steps closer and, from her purse, produces a small jar. “My sister says this helps with bruises and sore muscles.” Her nose wrinkles. “It smells like it should, anyway.”

Lena takes it from her. “Thank you. Do you use it as well?”

“No, I don’t really... bruise. Like a peach, but the opposite. Like a jalepeno!” She brightens as she finishes, and it’s infectious--Lena catches herself smiling without realizing it. 

“Thank you, Kara.” Lena sniffs the jar, then sets it aside on the glass table. “I--it means a lot to me, for you to visit. And I’ll see you at the Expo?”

“Of course. No one would blame you, you know, if you needed to postpone.” Kara touches her arm, friendly and comforting. “A concussion isn’t a small thing.”

“If I weren’t a woman CEO with the Luthor name, maybe. It’s not as easy as that.” Lena lays her hand on top of Kara’s. “It--means a great deal to me, Kara. Your friendship. I’m glad you’ll be attending the Expo next week.”

Kara leans down and hugs her, sudden. It’s awkward and Lena is faintly surprised--she thinks the last time she was hugged, it was by a university friend, drunk at a high scale club in Europe. “There is nothing more important,” Kara says, her breath huffing warm across Lena’s neck, “than my friends.”

//

Alex Danvers calls Lena on a Tuesday night. “Ms. Luthor.” She sounds rushed, harried, and there’s loud noises in the background. 

“Agent Danvers. If you’re calling about the Expo, I believe my corporate lawyers have--”

“Supergirl says you have a panic room.”

Lena presses the button to call Mercy into her office. “Yes.” Mercy appears before Lena’s finger is off the button and Lena beckons her closer.

“Get in. Lock the door and don’t open it until a DEO agent comes.”

Mercy leans over Lena’s shoulder. “What’s the threat?”

There’s a short, deliberate silence. “Supergirl.”

Mercy’s face doesn’t even flicker. “Red?”

“Yes. And gunning for your boss.”

“Understood.” Mercy disconnects and grips Lena’s arm above the elbow. She punches the button below the desk and the back room creaks open, the bookshelf swinging out. 

Lena digs her heels in. “How did you--nevermind. I need to order a complete evacuation of the building, call the actual authorities not just the gestapo black ops X-Files--”

Mercy drags her across the room. She reaches out and yanks the fire alarm. “Ms. Luthor, Supergirl is not going to come in through the _lobby_.”

Lena gets unceremoniously tossed into the backroom. She totters on her heels. “I--”

“I will make sure everyone gets out,” Mercy promises, “and I’ll come back.”

The door swings shut with a heavy thunk and Lena stands still for a moment. “Right,” she says. She takes three deep breaths, and gets to work.

//

Lena visited Lex in prison once, two months after sentencing. “A pity the family name couldn’t get you a spot at one of those…” she waved her hand, vague, and sat in the dirty plastic chair to peer through the dirty plastic window, the dirty plastic telephone against her ear. “--spa prison things. The equestrian ones.”

“You were always the fan of horses, not me.” Lex’s voice comes through tinny, crackly. “The first year may be rough, but I’m confidant I can start making inroads to a more comfortable stay.”

“Always an empire builder. Wouldn’t Daddy be proud.”

Lex rolled his eyes. “I hear you’re poised to be my successor. How does it feel, to come out of the shadows of your lab?”

“Like my brother was arrested for murder, conspiracy, racketeering, illegal transport of controlled materials, treason, assault--”

“Come on, Little Lena. Don’t say you don’t enjoy seeing me in this jumpsuit.”

“Orange is your color,” Lena says, and they smile at each other. Lex still has dimples, even after all this time, even after the accident that took his hair and his kindness. “I won’t visit again.”

Lex nodded. She touched the plastic with the tips of her nails and started to hang up. His voice paused her. “Be careful, Lena. You’re a target now, and too soft for your own good.”

//

A hand pounds on the panic room door. “Lena?”

Lena looks up from the blinking lights of her equipment. “Kara?”

“Help me, please, I--” Lena is already reaching for the release, almost tripping over herself. She peers behind Kara. 

“What are you doing here, there’s---what are you wearing?

The fear falls from Kara’s face. She stands taller, her spine straight and her shoulders broad. She tosses her glasses away. 

Supergirl rips her bookshelf door in half like tissue paper. “Ms. Luthor,” she says, almost gleeful. “Your assistant gave me more trouble than a secretary really should have.”

Lena retreats, her barefeet prickling on glass and debris. She has to swallow hard twice before she can talk. “Oh? I like this outfit on you.”

Supergirl pauses. She blinks. Then she smiles, sharp-edged and toothy and mean. “I knew you’d be more fun. Do you know where I went last time I cut loose?”

Lena takes a step back, bumping against the workbench, her hand behind her back. “Hot Topic?”

Supergirl drops half a wall with a careless toss of her hand. “I threw Cat Grant off the top of her own tower.”

“Mine’s taller,” Lena tells her. “Would it do me any good to say you don’t really want to do this?”

“No.” Kara walks around the edge of the room, letting her hand trail across the tools and spare equipment. She extends her index finger and crushes them to dust, a little smile playing on her lips. “This planet is so… delicate.” She turns on her heel, sharp. “You humans are so delicate. Ms. Grant was annoying and possessive, but you--you’re actually evil. They might even give me a medal for this.” She tilts her head. “They gave Kal one for putting your brother away. Maybe they’ll throw me a parade for getting rid of Lex Lite.”

“Can I tell you something my brother told me once?”

Supergirl shrugs. “Who am I to dictate your last words?”

“Everyone is delicate. Everyone is weak.” Lena’s fingers find the right flipswitch, and slip on the end, fear, sweat and adrenaline clogging her senses. “You just have to find where it hurts.”

Supergirl frowns. “You--”

Lena flips the switch. The lights flicker, sparking from the broken fixtures and exposed wires, and the machine behind her hums. She holds her breath.

Supergirl cracks her neck. “I was thinking about pretending to be weakened, just to make you feel better, but big sister is on the way and I mean to be long gone before that.”

Lena turns around and smacks the side of the machine with the flat of her palm hard enough her it stings, twice. The humming rackets up a notch, glowing that eerie alien green, and Supergirl makes a noise--Lena faces her again to see her stumble against the wall, her knees buckling. 

“Supergirl--” Alex Danvers appears in the wreckage, an odd gun slung around her shoulder. She fires an energy blast that blows Supergirl into the back wall and crumples her, unconscious, to the floor. “Ms. Luthor.”

“Agent Danvers, my assistant--”

Mercy limps in and half collapses against the wall, sagging. “Ms. Luthor. It’s good to see you. Did she…?”

“I’m fine--” Lena lunges forward and catches Mercy before she can hit the ground. “Jesus. My staff--”

“They’re fine,” Danvers snaps, bent over Supergirl. Agents flood the room, flocking to her, and Danvers steps back. “Your woman cleared the building, then came back. She faced Supergirl for you.”

Mercy’s arm is hanging at an unnatural angle, and her blood is wet and heavy on Lena’s shirt, smearing tacky on her skin. “I need an ambulance.”

Danvers nods, almost absentmindedly, her eyes fixed on Supergirl. “DEO is only--”

“No. To an L-Corp facility.”

“Fine.” Danvers reachers out without looking and drags a young looking agent over by the collar like a puppy. “Get Ms. Luthor an ambulance, escort her to wherever she wants.”

“Yes Agent Danvers,” he stammers. Agent Danvers walks away without another word. Lena sees her beeline to Supergirl’s side, and kneel. Her fingers brush Supergirl’s hair away from her face, gentle and careful, and Lena feels a little slow on the uptake.

“Ma’am?” The Agent is careful prying Lena’s hands free from where they’ve twisted into Mercy’s clothes. “Please, let me.” He lifts Mercy, careful, and carries her to a stretcher in the hall, Lena dogging his heels.

//

The medic riding in the back of the ambulance smells like menthols, and Lena sneaks the pack from his bag while he’s bent over Mercy, working while the vehicle rocks with the motion of the road. 

She had made three calls during the commute, and by the time they’ve arrived she’s secured an OR, a private room, and had three specialists helicoptered in. They bundle Mercy away for x-rays and tests and transfusions and other things with too many syllables and Lena passes out in a hospital waiting chair for four hours until an unlucky nurse wakes her and tries to treat her minor lacerations. She reams him out and staggers into a private room for another six hours of sleep. She wakes up when the doctors brief her and then takes the elevator to the roof.

She leaves a bloody trail behind her, her feet still cut up, and shivers in the night air. It takes her three tries to light the cigarette and halfway through smoking it, her knees give out. She sits limply on the cold concrete and shivers. She throws up and then lights another cigarette.

A cape flutters behind her. Lena snorts. “You took the time to change?”

“I feel like myself in this suit.”

“Not the glasses and the perky ponytail?” She hears Supergirl’s boots shift and she sighs. “I’m tired, Supergirl.”

“You’re injured.”

“Yes,” Lena agrees. “It turns out my assistant is the only person who can make me do anything I don’t want to do. It used to be my mother, but the torch seems to have been passed.”

“How is she? Your assistant.” Supergirl comes into Lena’s periphery, a blue and red blur, hunched in on herself.

“Her shoulder will never be the same. Two more operations and physical therapy and there’s a chance she will regain full mobility. I’m rechanneling a significant amount of our medical development towards her specific challenges.”

“I would like to apologize to her. Not now, maybe.”

Lena hums, noncommittal. “Are you here to ask me not to tell my brother I know who you are?”

“What? No, I trust you.” Lena looks at her properly for the first time, incredulous. Supergirl steps closer. “Lena, you’re my friend.” She scrunches back into herself, arms crossed across her chest. “I mean. If you want. Even if you don’t, I know you’re a good person. I trust you; you’ve proven you deserve it.”

“You’re my friend, too. No one else knows about my little room. Except Mercy. And the contractors.” Lena sighs, dragging herself up to walk over to an alcove. “Stop whipping yourself and come over here.” She lights another cigarette. “I don’t suppose you…?” If she wasn’t so run down and bone tired she’d be very interested in Supergirl’s organs and the effects of carcinogens on them.

“You shouldn’t either.” Supergirl leans against the wall, close enough their shoulders are touching, and tips her head back against the concrete. “I am sorry, Lena. I don’t--I remember it, but it’s… fuzzy. Like it was someone else.”

“I was expecting more declarations of divinity, to be honest.” Lena leans pressure against Supergirl’s shoulder. “Kara. What kind of friend would I be if I dropped you after a bad trip?”

“What kind of friend am I, to destroy your panic room and hurt your assistant.” Supergirl drags her hand over her face, an oddly human gesture. “I was there to kill you.”

Lena ashes her cigarette to the side. “Don’t get all warm and fuzzy about it. You’re hardly the first. You probably won’t be the last.”

Supergirl plucks the cigarette from between her lips. “Go downstairs. Let a nurse look at your feet. Go home and take a shower.” She pauses, her hair fluttering. She smells like sunshine. “This is what friends do.”

“I will if you do the same.”

“Deal,” she agrees. She lifts off the ground, feather light, and hovers. “Maybe I’ll take you flying sometime.”

“I have twenty helicopters and two personal jets, Supergirl. I fly when I like, and in comfort.”

Supergirl shakes her head, smiling soft. “No one flies like I fly, Ms. Luthor.” She rises into the stars, head tilted and lit by the moon, and Lena stands underneath with her head craned up like the starstruck damsel she’s never been.

//

Lena is frowning at a thick file folder when her mobile rings, her own office number lit up on the screen. She swipes to accept the call. “Agent Danvers.” There’s a short, surprised silence.

“How is your assistant?”

“Don’t you want to know how I knew it was you?” Lena flips a page and holds up a MRI scan to the light, frowning.

“I assume you have your ways. And your eyes. The receptionist?”

“And the doorman.” Lena tugs her glasses off and presses a knuckle between her eyes. “And the construction foreman, and the contractor, and six of my researchers, all six of my present department heads. Two janitors. You think only your people understand what loyalty is?”

“Clearly not.”

“Why are you calling at this early hour, Agent?”

“I need a meeting. There’s a safehouse, a secure location--” Lena taps a few buttons and her phone beeps gently, her location shared.

“Six floor, office 3a. I’d tell security to expect you, but I doubt it will be necessary. L-Corp is a private corporation and operating fully within state and federal laws. If you’d like to see permits and licenses, I’ll make them available.”

“Kryptonite is a controlled substance, Ms. Luthor.”

“Then it’s a good thing I didn’t use any. As a gesture of goodwill, I’d be amenable to sharing the blueprints for my device with the DEO, as well as any relevant defensive agencies.” Lena slides her glasses back on. 

Danvers snorts. “As soon as your copyright is stamped on it.”

“And I receive proper compensation. Corporations are people too, Agent Danvers. Can I help you with anything else?”

“I really do want to know how your assistant is.”

Lena twirls her stylus in her fingers, sinking back into her files. “I take care of my people.”

//

Lena finds Kara in the crowd. “Walk with me,” she invites. “A backstage look, an exclusive scoop.”

She leads Kara into the main staging area. “This is the big finale.”

Kara hesitates at the edge, shying away from the heavy curtain. “Umm.”

Lena holds out her hand. “Am I your friend, Kara Danvers? Do you trust me?”

Kara’s hand is warmer than Lena expected. Strong. Her bones feel like human ones. She steps up on the platform next to Lena. “I don’t feel sick.”

“And why should you? It’s a water purifying system--it’s _the_ water purifying system. Pays for itself within two years. As a test, we’re deploying them to the top ten cities in need in the world.” Lena looks at Kara sideways. “What do you think of L-Corp’s prize technology?”

“I think… your board is going to eat you alive.” Kara reaches out, laying a hand on the dark cloth covering. “And I think that you’re going to help people who really need it.”

“It’s a small step.” Lena looks down at where their hands are still joined. “Sometimes those are the most important, I think.”

A harried woman in a headset pops out from the curtain. “Ms. Luthor, two minutes.”

“Of course, Liz.”

The woman flushes faintly before scurrying away. When Lena turns her attention back to Kara she has a soft look on her face. “It means something, that you remembered her name.” Her thumb strokes over Lena’s knuckles, reassuring. “My name is Kara Zor-El. I am the last daughter of Krypton.”

Lena hums. “Why Kal-El and not Kal Jor-El?”

Kara leans closer. She murmurs in Lena’s ear, something in the soft jangly consonants of her native tongue. “Daughters of Krypton,” she translates, “take their father’s name.”

Liz appears at the edge of Lena’s vision to fidget frantically. Lena lets Kara’s fingers slip away. “Look at that. Some things the same, all galaxies over.”

//

Superman’s cape makes a distinctly different noise than Kara’s. 

“Kal-El,” she greets, without looking up. “What do you think of the new paint scheme?”

He closes the balcony door behind him, gently, and doesn’t flip the lock. “I came to warn you.”

“Your cousin’s virtue is safe with me.”

“And her secrets?”

Lena refuses to look up from her tablet. “Those, too.”

“Forgive me if I don’t trust the word of a Luthor.”

Lena sighs. She stands. “Can I offer Superman a drink? I have those carbonated lemon waters Kara likes.”

“I know what you’re doing.”

Lena crosses to the drink stand and cracks a can open. “Good old fashioned hospitality?”

“Over the past ten years, L-Corp has quietly and quickly been seizing oil refineries--”

“And here I thought Kara was the biggest square I’d ever met.” Lena sits on the couch and crosses her legs. She extends a hand towards the chair. “Please.”

“I will not allow you to form monopolies.”

“Lex wanted to form monopolies.” Superman frowns. He crosses his arms over his chest and looks strikingly like his cousin. It softens Lena towards him more than she’d like. She sighs, and taps at her tablet before holding it out. “A fifteen year plan for clean energy. I was hoping for it to be five, but… circumstances get in the way.”

“Like your little light show. The one that mirrors Kryptonite effects.”

“Like convincing my R&D department and my board to scrap the project.”

Superman actually jolts. Lena wonders how either of the Supercousins ever manage to carry a secret identity. “Kara trusts you,” he says, and sounds almost lost. 

“Kara and I understand each other.”

He snorts. “What could a Luthor and a Daughter of El ever understand about each other?”

“I think it’s interesting to be lectured by the… _man_ ,” Lena lets her voice drag over the word and watches his jaw flex, “who abandoned his only blood relative to the care of strangers as a child. You left her.” Lena taps her nails on the aluminum can. “We both know what it’s like to be left.”

//

“I heard my cousin visited.”

Lena leans over the balcony railing and peers down into the darkness. “He skulked less.”

“This isn’t skulking, it’s stealth.” She rises and sets down gently next to Lena. “Mercy?”

“Back to work tomorrow. With assistants of her own.”

Supergirl bumps their shoulders together. “She must love that.”

“I think antagonism fuels her.” 

They look out at the city lights together, the wind whistling and the echoing traffic. “I love this city,” Supergirl breathes. “This view is almost as good as Catco’s.”

“And the company?”

When Supergirl smiles she looks just like Kara. “Stay here for a minute.” When she launches, the breeze blows Lena back a step. She watches Supergirl rise into the air and erupt into the horizon with the crack of a sonic boom.

Lena steps out of her heels and untucks her blouse from her skirt. It’s barely thirty seconds later before Supergirl is back, in jeans and a sweater that drapes loose and soft looking, thick knit and long enough to hang over her hands. She’s holding a plastic bag. “Have you ever had Chinese take-out from China?”

Yes, Lena remembers, many, many times. “No,” she says. “A working dinner?”

“Social, I think.” She hefts a bottle. “Calgorian liquor. You should _not_ drink this. Or… smell it. Try not to look directly at it.”

Lena Luthor and Kara Zor-El meet on a balcony. They walk hand in hand, dripping noodle-grease, and shut the door behind them.

**Author's Note:**

> let me know what you think, my first time writing supercorp! any notes on characterization would be helpful and appreciated <3
> 
> catch me on tumblr @sunspill :)


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